Translation
by Natalie Williams
Summary: When words just can't say what they need to.


For a long time neither of them said anything. Both had thoughts rampaging through their heads, but the thoughts were completely unable to be expressed in words. Everything would get lost in the translation. It was easier not to speak.   
  
Olivia sat stirring more cream into her coffee, letting the sound of the spoon clanking against the inside of the mug speak for her. It was a simple language, but it filled the otherwise deafening silence that raged in the world outside her head.   
  
It was devastating when John disappeared. It was a routine mission. He was supposed to be back before dinner. She would never admit it to anyone but herself, but she had assumed he was dead. They never found his module, they never found his body. Maybe he had been vaporized. Maybe he was lost in space, left to freeze, suffocate or starve to death. No one knew. The odds that he had stayed alive this long... It didn't seem real. How could he be anything other than dead? It had to be a thought buried deep inside everyone's mind, but it was one no one ever voiced, because everyone hoped so hard.   
  
For once, hope came through, at least for a while. John came back, looking healthy and handsome and every bit like the brother she had said goodbye to before the day of the Farscape mission. He was gone again as suddenly as he came. He went willingly, which was terrifying enough. What was more terrifying was that they hadn't tied him up and locked him in the basement as soon as he said he was leaving. Instead they had let him go. They knew what he was facing, or at least part of it, and they let him go back to it.   
  
Olivia had talked with John, and she had seen bits and pieces of his life. She knew he wasn't telling her everything. It didn't matter how close you were. Sometimes there were things you couldn't tell a family member. The bits she heard, though, made it hard to believe he would go back to it. He carried a weapon that he had named. He wasn't the John she'd known all her life, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, it didn't work.   
  
Maybe Aeryn was the deciding factor, but she doubted it. She knew Aeryn worried about fitting in on Earth, but she did a good job, especially considering the circumstances. No, it had to have more to do with John not fitting in at home. Although it was easier to see the changes in him the longer he was home, it was disappointing that he chose not to stay. Olivia had looked forward to seeing John and Aeryn married, raising their baby and coming over for more Christmases, seeing them happy. Well, they could still be happy, she rationalized. She just wouldn't be there to see it. There was still hope, though. He'd cheated death and come back once. He could come back again. A couple years from now, he would come back with enough kids to form a baseball team, dropping off trinkets he had collected from the far ends of his universe because he knew he would come home again. He would demand that they show him the video of Bobby's graduation and the pictures of every holiday and birthday since he had been gone. He would want to hear all the good recent music and see how the last Star Wars movie ended. Next time he would decide not to go back.   
  
Olivia looked across the table at her father, who was staring out the window into the yard. Saying goodbye to John had killed him. He was trying to hide it, but she knew her own pain well enough to recognize his. She couldn't say any of these things to him. There were things she could tell him that would probably make him feel better, but no words would come out the way she meant them. He'd been through a lot, and he was so strong in his belief that John was out there somewhere that no one had dared speak against him. They had instead stayed silent, trying to believe the same thing he did. Olivia supposed there was a difference between losing a brother and losing a son that she couldn't understand, simply because she couldn't read the deep lines of thought written across Jack Crichton's face.   
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but had no idea what it was she had to say. There were ten thousand things she could tell him. He'll be all right. He's happy out there. He knows how to care of himself. Aeryn will take care of him. At least you got to say goodbye this time. Yet words fell short of their meaning. What could you say to your dad when it looked like his heart had just been ripped out of him?   
  
Instead of speaking, Olivia brought her mug to her lips, sipping her coffee. It was cooling now, and too heavy on the cream. There wasn't a single word she could say, and it occurred to her that she might not have to. 


End file.
